


Rescue me

by Keepoffthegrass



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Meeting, Drug Use, Gen, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepoffthegrass/pseuds/Keepoffthegrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John calls the Samaritans after he feels suicidal, he speaks to Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not making fun of the Samaritans or anyone who is depressed/suicidal.

“You're through to the Samaritans, how can I help?” A well educated but clearly bored voice informed the caller.  
  
“Um hello. I've never done this before, never thought I would have to, but well, I'm feeling suicidal” A short bark of laughter. “Got a gun in a drawer and everything”  
  
“Where did you get a gun?” The bored voice expressed some interest.  
  
“I was an army doctor, and not just that but a captain too...”  
  
“Was; so you have the gun illegally” The voice smiled. “I suppose that's the reason for your feelings? Invalided out of Afghanistan or Iraq...”  
  
“An unwanted cripple with PTSD and trust issues? Yep you could say that gives me a reason!”  
  
“So do you feel helpless or hopeless?”  
  
“What? What difference does it make?”   
  
“One minute-” The sound of rustling and a plastic clatter before a ecstatic exhale.  
  
“What the hell...! Are you getting high during a Samaritans suicide call?!” The army doctor demanded in disbelief.   
  
A chuckle “Possibly”  
  
Silence for several minutes. “Are you alright?” the doctor asked.  
  
“Helpless it is then”


	2. 2

“I called last week, I want to speak to the same man.” The army doctor told the switchboard operator.  
  
“One moment ,I'll put you through; you're lucky, this is the only day he volunteers”  
  
…....................................................................................................................  
  
“You probably don't remember me, I spoke to you last week...”  
  
“Oh I remember all right; the good doctor. Still want to kill yourself?”  
  
“Wouldn't be calling if I didn't. Still doing drugs?”  
  
“Touché. It's only a seven per cent solution of cocaine, nothing to worry about. You on the other hand...what will we do with you? Let me look at the book...it says I should ask about your life, exactly why you have lost hope”  
  
One hour and alcoholic sister, crappy flat, limp and intermittent tremor later.  
  
“God you're right! You should definitely kill yourself”  
  
It was so unexpected the doctor wasn't even offended. “Are you always like this?”   
  
“Only on good days”   
  
“I'm John by the way, John Watson”  
  
“I don't think we are allowed to tell you our names. You can call me Steven”  
  
“Ok Steven. So why are you doing this anyway? No offence but you don't seem like the type who enjoys helping people”  
  
“I'm not; my annoying big brother is making me. He doesn't believe that caring is an advantage but he thinks I should be able to pretend...so on that note; doctor Watson you have lots of things to live for I'm sure, get in touch with your sister...”  
  
John snorted.  
  
“Well fine perhaps not, just don't do anything rash-you haven't taken anything have you? Because if you have...”  
  
“No, no I haven't! I called because I want someone to talk me out of it I guess...pathetic isn't it?”  
  
“I think that's normal. John I'm afraid I'm not the best person for you to be talking to; let me put you through to someone else”  
  
“Please don't do that Steven-”  
  
“Sherlock. My name, it's Sherlock”  
  
“Talking to you makes me feel normal Sherlock”


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has some insensitive responses to tragic true recent news articles as an attempt to convey Sherlock's aspergers

“Hello again John” Sherlock couldn't hide a smile as he adjusted his ear piece.  
  
“Can we skip the small talk?” John sighed.  
  
“What is it? What's happened?”  
  
“I'm just having a really shit day ok”  
  
“Perhaps if you could be more specific I could help?”  
  
“We both know helping isn't your area!” John couldn't help but retort.  
  
“I'll transfer your call then” Sherlock replied after a pause.  
  
“No don't. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that”  
  
“Its only the truth” Sherlock shrugged.  
  
“I called my sister, ended in a screaming row as always, and apparently I'm over qualified for a GP”  
  
“There are other surgeries John and if your sister is that...unreasonable, then it sounds like it's for the best” Sherlock offered.  
  
“Yeah maybe...and then there is always some God awful piece in the papers, do you know what I mean?”  
  
“I usually skim through for the unusual murders; give me an example”  
  
“Unusual murders, what?”  
  
“I'm a consulting detective, don't bother to ask; I invented the job-I'm the only one in the world”  
  
“ Right. Ok the papers then” John pressed on. “Man snaps after a hunt and kills his girlfriend-”  
  
“I guess he didn't catch anything then”  
  
“Starving child found with dead body of sibling-”  
  
“Why didn't they eat the body then? Not very logical” Sherlock queried.  
  
“Are you kidding? Is that really all you have to say?” John gasped.  
  
“Of course it's all rather tragic, I do realise that, I just...I'm...This will cheer you up: first person with prosthetic limbs to appear on splash!, whatever that is” Sherlock rapidly flicked through The Sun not wanting John to think badly of him. This was ruined however by him sniggering.  
  
“What's funny?” John asked .  
  
“Splash is a diving show, water isn't the soft yielding surface people think it is and you hit at about 30mph...”  
  
“So?”  
  
“So lets hope those limbs don't fall off and hit someone in the head. Be good TV though”  
  
John laughed. And laughed.  
  
“Was that good?” Sherlock asked uncertainly.  
  
“It was different but that's ok sometimes. I haven't laughed like that in a long time, thank you”  
  
“John listen; I'm afraid this is my last day with the Samaritans. It will probably sound crazy but would you like to meet in person? Have coffee or something”  
  
“I'd like that I really would”  
  
…....................................................................................................................  
  
John ripped into his third paper napkin and considered leaving the café when a long shadow fell over the table. Looking up he saw a tall pale man with dark curls, perfect cheekbones and light eyes. He flopped into the cheap plastic chair and removed his gloves and scarf looking as out of place as a model in Primark.  
  
“Sorry I'm late I was at a crime scene. Sherlock Holmes” the man held out a hand with a wink.  
  
“John Watson” John shook his hand feeling slightly dizzy as though he had been picked up in a tornado.  
  
“Have you ordered yet? You should eat”  
  
“What about you? Are you eating?” John glanced up over the menu.  
  
“It's only Wednesday, I'm alright for a bit longer. I'll have a drink though”  
  
“Um what? People need to eat, you are human aren't you? Although judging by how white you are you clearly don't get much sun so who knows”  
  
Sherlock smiled. “You know what I think doctor? You aren't traumatised by the war, you miss it. You miss it and you hate feeling helpless, as though you no longer have any use. I need a flatmate and you need better accommodation, you need a purpose and I need someone to bounce ideas off of”  
  
John held up a hand “I can't just move in with someone I barely know!”  
  
“I have a tendency to rush head first into things, I don't eat as much as I should and I have an occasional cocaine habit, isn't that enough to be going on with? Oh and your limp is psychosomatic by the way”  
  
“I must be out of my mind, but yes, yes I'll move in with you”  
  
“Could be dangerous” Sherlock grinned.  
  
"I'm counting on it" John replied, feeling as if he had come home after a long journey.

  



End file.
